


"CALL ME KIRA?"

by disarmed



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Angst, Cock Warming, Comeplay, Consensual Somnophilia, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Nipple Play, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Phone Sex Operator!Rey, Porn with Feelings, Somnophilia, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28003077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disarmed/pseuds/disarmed
Summary: The call centre Rey works for is NITE FLIRT. It’s not very creative and the spelling choice is quintessential early 2000s, but the hours fit with her college schedule and the pay is good; base wage plus commission.The bonus? A certain client keeps calling back for more.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 46
Kudos: 195





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by the brilliant kylee @reveriemou here and over on twt). a million thanks for your enduring patience! love you long time, boo. (also, more tags to come as the last two installments are finalized.)

The head-set beeps in Rey’s ear and she glances at the clock: six on the dot.

“Good evening, you can call me Kira.” She answers the call by clicking the ear piece. She always has clients call her Kira - it’s a workplace safety issue and also a personal preference.

The call centre Rey works for is NITE FLIRT. It’s not very creative and the spelling choice is quintessential early 2000s, but the hours fit with her college schedule and the pay is good; base wage plus commission. The longer you keep clients on the phone, the more you get paid. It isn’t rocket science and it’s a lot less demanding than when she was working as a waitress—at least she can _hang up_ if someone is rude to her in this job. The office isn’t particularly flash; a single story in a low-rise building, but their spaces are neat and tidy, and there’s always coffee and biscuits in the break room.

“Hello.”

The voice on the other line is all too familiar at this point. Rey smiles. He always calls at exactly six.

“Hey, Kylo.” Rey wouldn’t exactly call herself _smooth_ , but she’s been doing this for almost a year now and she’s gotten pretty good at it. Regulars, like Kylo, aren’t always interested in the breathy, vapid sex voice she adopts most of the time. Rey slides a little down her chair, thighs tensing as her hands go to the button of her jeans. “What are you in the mood for?”

There’s a brief pause and Rey can hear his breathing on the other end of the line.

“I think I’d like you to fuck me.” He says it thoughtfully, like he’s really considering his options. Kylo has been calling for over a month now, usually on a weekday, but always at six in the evening. He has a _delightful_ voice; rich and deep, and the first time Rey heard it, she’d been rendered weak at the knees, more grateful than ever before for the cheap, plastic recliner in her cubicle. Caller’s voices don’t usually affect her, but something about Kylo’s had made her breath run short. Perhaps it’s the languid, sexual promise behind the dulcet tones, or the strength of a promise; whatever it is, it does _things_ to her.

“You think?” she questions, slowly, her voice dropping lower naturally as she shimmies her jeans down her hips. Kylo is the one client she actually _does_ the things she says she is doing. “You _think_ you want me to fuck you?” she repeats, sliding her fingers beneath the waistband of her panties. “Do you want me to get straight to it?” she asks, adopting the same thoughtful tone he’d used earlier. “You don’t want me to suck you off first?”

“No.” He’s firm and unyielding. “I want you to fuck me at my desk, now.”

Rey doesn’t know where Kylo is calling from; his number is always private so she can’t even pinpoint the state. She assumes he works in an office somewhere; the majority of his calls feature office paraphernalia in one way or another—a desk, a conference table, a glass wall in a high rise (he’d been specific about that one). He always sounds put together and professional—until he comes - his vernacular leaning towards a high-ranking position of some sort.

“Alright,” she murmurs, shifting to get comfortable. “Eager for it today, huh?” If anything, she’s the eager one, her two fingers sliding over her slit in anticipation. “Rough day at the office?” she asks. It’s rhetorical; she knows it is because he wants her to take control. He’s been calling often enough that she can read his tells. 

“What are you wearing, Kylo?” As much as she enjoys this, it’s still her job, and she has to keep him on the line for as long as possible.

“Slacks,” he replies, voice low and even. “Dress shirt. I still have my tie.”

Rey hums. “Your jacket?” She likes to think he cuts a striking image in his suit and tie.

He chuckles. “Not right now, Kira.”

“Fine,” she huffs playfully. “You know the rules,” she says, and then to remind him, “no touching.” She hears his sharp intake of breath and smiles. “Are you sitting at your desk, Kylo?”

“Yes.”

“Mmmkay,” she draws out the sound, giving herself a moment to think. Sure, they have scripts, but the scripts are boring and generic, and tend to only work on first-time callers. Rey isn’t exactly a connoisseur of dirty talk, but she likes to make it _somewhat_ realistic for Kylo. She tells herself it’s because he’s such a good client—he brings in a solid chunk of her paycheck—and not that she wants him to enjoy it.

She must take a moment too long because he says, “And what are you wearing, Kira?” in a slightly condescending tone. She doesn't take it personally. She knows him well enough to read the small smile in his voice.

“Jeans,” she answers honestly. “But I took those off the moment I came through the door.” Here she pulls from a creative license. “It’s just my panties now and a white tee shirt.” She pauses for effect. “I didn’t wear a bra today.” This part is true; she hasn’t, and her nipples are already hard and pressing against the thin cotton of her top. She brings her left hand up to pinch at them absently, not bothering to hide the hitch in her breath.

“Perfect tits,” he murmurs, half to her and half to himself. “I bet you have the most perfect tits.”

“I want your mouth on them,” she tells him, left hand pinching harder as the fingers of her right dip into her pussy. “But you have to wait. You’re still dressed.” She hears him shift and wonders if he’s touching himself despite her order. “I love seeing you at your desk,” she says, “with your legs spread, waiting for me to walk up to you. I bet it feels good when I take off your tie; maybe I should bind your wrists so you can’t touch yourself.” She enjoys the way he inhales and thinks: ‘ _Got you_.’ 

“You were, weren’t you Kylo?” She _tsks_. “I thought I said no touching.”

“I can’t help it,” he admits shamelessly. “It’s what you do to me.”

Rey preens at the compliment. “I’m sliding your shirt off, too. God, you look so good.” She imagines he does, _hopes_ he does. Someone with a voice like his _has_ to look good, right? “I can see you’re hard,” she murmurs down the line, her fingers working dragging up the length of her slit to press at her clit. “You’ve been waiting for me.”

There’s the faintest hint of amusement when he says, “I’m still waiting for you.”

Rey grins. “You can wait a second longer. Let’s get you out of those pants.” She’s so wet; she wouldn’t be surprised if it’s dripping onto the chair beneath her. “God, I love your cock. Have you been thinking about me, Kylo? About kissing me, about touching me... Have you been waiting all day to feel my pussy?”

When Rey had first started working here, she hadn’t been able to say things like pussy and cock and cunt—not in the inherently sexy way the others could. She’d fumbled through her first few calls and had been at the bottom of the leaderboard that was tacked up in the break room. She’d slowly gotten the hang of it; although, she’s never fully comfortable. The thing is, when she’s talking to Kylo, she _is_. Comfortable. At ease. As if she can say anything at all and he won’t judge her for it or tease her, or think of it as a turn-off.

“Love that sweet little pussy,” he murmurs into her ear. Rey feels electricity shoot up her spine. “Can’t wait to feel it around my cock.”

“I bet you can’t.” Rey strokes herself harder. “How do you want it, Kylo? Fast, or slow?”

There’s a pause, as if he’s deliberating. “Fast,” he answers finally. “Hard and fast.”

Rey nods, even though he can’t see her.

“I can do that.” She leans her head back, eyes closing, as she immerses herself in the scene. Rey imagines him, leaning back in his chair in his own office, his hand down his expensive pants, his mouth parted and his eyes closed as she talks to him. “I’m so wet,” she tells him, “and you’re taking off my shirt. God, I love when you touch my chest.”

“Fuck yeah, you do. You love it when I pinch your nipples. So fucking sensitive, aren’t you Kira?” He’s breathing hard and fast now.

Rey moans. “Yeah.” It takes a second for her to remember her voice. “I’m climbing into your lap—you can hold me, I know you can, your hands sliding up my thighs to grab my arse.”

He chuckles, a little breathlessly, and Rey knows it’s because of her accent; he’s told her before. He finds it endearing.

“What an ass it is,” he murmurs approvingly, “so fucking _firm._ Practically asking to be spanked.” They’ve done spanking before—a lot.

“You’re so hard,” she says, “I love when you rub your cock against me, getting yourself wet. Are you ready?” It’s perfunctory; he’s been ready since he called her three-and-a-half minutes ago. “God, Kylo, I’m sliding down on your cock and you’re splitting me—”

“You can take it,” he tells her, “be a good girl, take my cock.”

“Yeah, yeah I can, but you’re so big. I—” Rey has two fingers in her cunt now, _in out, in out,_ in a sad mimicry of the real thing. “That’s it; you’re so deep Kylo. I’m going to fuck you now, okay? You like when I fuck you, when I’m bouncing like this on your cock?”

“Fuck, _yes—_ ”

“I know you do. I’m going to make you come, Kylo, right here in your office. I’m fucking you where anyone can walk in and see, but you love it, don’t you? You love the idea that someone could walk in and see me sitting on your cock, _impaled_ on it, begging to come.”

His voice is strangled when he says, “Kira, fuck yes.”

Rey is bucking up into her own hand. “I’m going to come, I’m so close. I want you to come first though, please, Kylo.” The breathy desperation is all her own. “Please come inside me, I want it—”

“Kira—Kira, I’m—”

She sees stars as her own orgasm hits, the heel of her palm grinding into her clit in an effort to ride it out as she makes a choked, desperate sound. She hears Kylo groan, long and low in his throat, and then they sit for a moment in silence as they come down together. Rey can hear him on the other end, breathing heavily down the phone. He never hangs up on her, not like the others do. 

“You are exceptionally good at that.” He sounds boneless.

Rey smiles contentedly. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.” She pauses, because they’re not supposed to say _goodbye_ ; they’re always supposed to leave the other person wanting more so they’ll call back. “Same time tomorrow?” Rey tries not to let hope creep into her voice.

“Yes,” he says, and she thinks she can hear his smile again. “Same time tomorrow.”

*

Finn usually picks her up after work, and when Rey gets off at nine, he’s there, waiting in his two-door Honda Civic. The little car is beaten up and has definitely seen better days, but it runs on next to nothing, and Rey is always grateful when Finn offers to drop her off and pick her up from anywhere she needs to be.

When she slides into the front seat and pulls her seatbelt across her chest, Finn chuckles.

Rey narrows her eyes at him. “What is it?” she asks as they pull out of the parking lot.

“You’ve got that look,” he tells her. “The I-just-had-sex look.”

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, you know what I do for a living, right?”

Finn doesn’t rise to her baiting, because he is a patient and tolerant human. “Yes, but you don’t _actually_ have sex with your clients. It was that guy, wasn’t it, the one who calls at six?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rey tries to hide her flushed cheeks and fails miserably when Finn crows with victorious laughter. “He’s _just_ a client,” she insists, sinking further down in her seat and looking resolutely out the window.

Finn heckles her about it for at least half of the drive.

“Who knows,” says Finn as he takes a right turn. “Maybe you’ll meet a _real boy_ tonight.”

Rey _harrumphs_.

*

It’s Thursday, which means it’s Reverse-Happy-Hour over at Maz’s bar downtown from ten to close. Maz runs a popular joint. The bar is nice enough that the upscale business moguls have no problem drinking away their dollars on top-shelf liquor, but relaxed enough that casual clientele like Rey and Finn can enjoy a house beer or two. They get in without any problems because another friend, Chewie, is at the door. He winks at them fondly, his smile almost completely hidden behind the ginger-brown brush of his excessive beard, and lets them bypass the line; he pats Rey fondly on the shoulder as she scurries past.

She beams up at him. “Thanks, Chewie!”

It’s dark inside and a DJ is playing to an almost full dancefloor. They make their way to the bar, shifting with the crowd until they reach the front. Rey sticks her elbows out and leans over the bartop, eyeing up the tap beer like she _might_ choose something different. She won’t. Maz knows this; the small, older woman eyeing both her and Finn expectantly before pouring them both house pints.

“Two for one,” she tells them smartly, but there’s a small smile she can’t quite hide.

Finn, ever the opportunist, smiles widely. “Good to see you Maz. You look—”

“I look tired,” she drawls, cutting him off. “And these—” she points to the drinks “—are two for one. Six dollars.” She sets her hands on her hips. “Come on, I don’t have all night.”

Rey reaches into her purse for her wallet. “Here.” She hands the cash over. “Cheers, thanks, Maz.” She takes both the beers and when Finn holds his hand out expectantly, she plays dumb. “I thought you were sober driving?”

He scowls. “You’re hilarious.”

“I know.” She hands the beer over with a grin.

They shuffle around and eventually find a recently vacated table near the dancefloor. It’s slightly sticky, but Rey and Finn are veterans and cannot be deterred. They sit, staking their spot, and watch people dance for a bit. Rey recognises local DJ Snap spinning his set; he’s usually on Thursday and Friday nights, and plays a good mix. Her eyes rove from Snap to the dancefloor and the surrounding bar area, because Finn isn’t wrong; it would be nice to meet a real human being that could give her an orgasm. Even if it’s just for the night, because it’s been a while and she’s lonely. It would be nice to sleep with someone who doesn’t ask to call her “mommy.” (In the real literal biological mommy-sense, and not in the hot-mama kind of way.) Yeah, some of her clients are weird like that.

Which, Rey thinks, is why she likes Kylo so much. He’s on the normal side of things, and when he does err into the kinkier side, it’s always _tasteful_. He still respects her, even when they’ve toyed with humiliation. (He’s fond of the image of her resting on her knees under his desk with his cock in her mouth while he works and occasionally pets her hair. “Look at you,” he whispers down the phone at her, “such a pretty cockwarmer, such a good girl for me. Do you like that, Kira?” And she does; she really, really does, whimpering and gasping and telling him _yes_. Sometimes she wonders if she’s the phone sex operator or him.

But, Kylo isn’t real, at least not in the here and now of Rey’s life. He’s just a voice on the phone. 

Her gaze wanders to the raised mezzanine area. Cordoned off for VIP clients (see: snotty businessmen), the balcony area isn’t really Rey’s type of people. They’re mostly groups from the business district, or private events that book the booths ahead of time. Tonight, it’s another mix of suits, black and blues and shades of grey, and they all look much alike.

Rey drops her gaze back to the bar and is immediately drawn to a tall man with a dark head of hair. He’s moving through the throng of people, a hand wrapped around a short, stout glass of amber liquid and _oh_... Rey swallows. That is one large hand. He’s really hot from where she’s sitting, and his largeness is proportionate. It looks like: large hands, long legs, thick thighs, and broad shoulders. He’s definitely fit. He’s wearing black slacks and a deep, mahogany shirt. It’s loose at the collar, a few buttons undone. An expensive-looking watch glints on his left wrist.

Rey shifts, craning her neck, because he’s hot from a distance, and wants to see him up close… She’s not surprised when he takes the steps to the balcony area, but she is disappointed, social divide and all that. 

But she’s never been a quitter and she’s determined to see his face. She keeps her eyes trained on him as he slides into one of the booths with a small group; mostly men, all in similar suits and ties. 

“What are we looking at?” Beside her, Finn shifts in his seat.

Rey gestures discreetly to the balcony. “Tall, dark hair, sitting in the booth second from the left.”

He makes a thoughtful sound. “Bit of a large nose, don’t you think?”

Rey bristles. “It’s _aristocratic_.”

She brushes Finn off and goes back to watching. The guy is nodding to his friend, a slim, sharp-featured man with ginger hair. He seems mostly disinterested from the looks of things, and she smiles as he takes a sip of his drink. When he looks up, their eyes lock. He freezes, although not altogether fazed by Rey watching him. The lighting is terrible, and she can’t see what color his eyes are, but she really wants to. He stares at her for a long, drawn out moment that seems like an _age_. His eyes scan her body briefly, top to bottom and up again, slow and burning. Rey knows what he’s thinking; she can see it in his face.

_He’s the one_ , she thinks. _If someone’s going to rail me, I want it to be him._

For a moment, she wonders if she’s said it out loud and he’s heard her, because his lips curve up in a smug smile and he quirks a brow. He holds her gaze, even when she smiles back at him and nips her lower lip between her teeth questioningly. God, she panics momentarily. She hopes she looks sexy—

Then, suddenly, he does break away. A slim, dark haired woman slides into the booth next to him, her hand curling around the back of his neck as she presses a kiss to his cheek. Rey sees him stiffen ever so slightly, but the other woman doesn’t seem to notice, and then he places a hand on her thigh.

  
Rey slowly sits back, disappointed.

*

She has a lab class in the morning and spends the afternoon wallowing at home. She shares a small, two bedroom, one bathroom apartment with Finn not far from campus. It’s not much; neither of them moved to the city with a lot on them, but it’s cozy enough. She eats half a pint of Ben and Jerry’s, moping around the living room, watching infomercials before getting ready for work at four.

Work is… much the same.

A guy who wants assplay, a young girl who speaks in frantic whispers and hangs up abruptly once she comes, another man who wants to talk about her feet; it continues on for the next couple of hours and Rey finds herself glancing at the clock more times than necessary, wondering why it’s taking _several hours_ for the hands to move from five to six.

Then, as the clock goes from 5:59 to 6:00, her line beeps.

She tries not to smile as she clicks her earpiece to take the call. “Hello. Call me Kira?”

“Hello.”

Her stomach flips. “Hey, Kylo. How are you doing today?”

“I’ve been better.” He doesn’t sound particularly angry or upset, and Rey wonders if he’s had another busy day in the office. “Yourself?” She hears him shift and wonders if he’s already touching himself during their small talk.

“Not too bad,” she tells him, swiveling slowly in her chair. “It’s been a bit slow today, but I bet you can fix that for me.”

“Don’t.”

Rey pauses, taken aback by the sharp command. He sounds like he’s struggling with what to say next. This is a first. She stops swiveling, planting her feet on the ground and leaning forward on her elbows.

“Don’t what?” she asks.

Kylo exhales heavily. “Don’t talk to me like that, not today.”

She considers reminding him what her job is, but he sounds so desperate and shaken that she concedes.

“Alright.” She tries to sit comfortably. “What _do_ you want to talk about?”

He huffs, like he’s frustrated at her. “Tell me something. Anything. About yourself.”

“I…” Rey doesn’t know what to say. They’re not supposed to talk about themselves or divulge any personal information that could put them at risk. They don’t even use their real first names. Sure, she tells clients the color of her hair and her eyes, and that she’s slight of frame, or that her tits are a small handful but she’s got a shapely arse—but none of those _mean_ anything out in the real world; she’s just another human in a sea of people.

Kylo makes a sound low in his throat. “Kira, I just want to hear your voice.”

She swallows. “Okay.” She doesn’t sound sexy or professional, and Rey coughs to clear her throat to try and gain control of herself. Kylo has never sounded like this before, ever, and Rey isn’t _heartless_. “I have this recurring dream.” It’s a weird thing to start with, but Rey doesn’t know what else to say. Kylo doesn’t reply, so she continues. “An island; I don’t know why. I’ve never been to an island before, or the beach, actually.” She laughs nervously. “I’ve never seen the ocean.”

“You haven’t seen the ocean?” He sounds less frazzled now, but she can hear him frowning in his tone.

Embarrassed by the admission, she nods and then remembers he can’t see her.

“I grew up in Jakku county,” she explains slowly. “I left when I was quite young, around seventeen. I moved to the city and haven’t gone any further since.”

“How long is _since_?” His voice is low and quiet, and Rey realises he’s picking at her age. She hesitates, unsure. “Six years,” she says softly into the phone. “I’ve been here six years.”

Kylo is silent.

“Are you there?” she asks in a small voice, even though she knows he is. The call is still running; she can see it on her monitor. 

“Yes,” he says eventually. “You’re twenty-three.”

“Yeah, yeah, I am.” Rey is momentarily struck by the idea that Kylo could be an old man and he gets off on young girls, and he—she stems the thought. Speculation at this time is pointless.

Then, he says: “I’m ten years older than you.”

Rey’s cunt clenches. “Oh.”

“Does that bother you?”

“No,” she blurts, too quick, her cheeks flaming. “No, it doesn’t.” She tries to reign in her shaking voice. “That is, if you’re telling the truth.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” He sounds hurt, as if she might think otherwise. Rey wonders if he’s forgotten he’s on a _phone sex line_. “I’m thirty-three,” he clarifies, as if this might placate her. It does slightly, because she’s been doing this job for a while and talking to him for some time, and she likes to think she can _tell_ he’s being honest with her. “Please,” he adds. “Keep talking.”

Rey leans back in her chair, swiveling thoughtfully. “I grew up in the system.”

This is a truth, and she wonders if he will think less of her for it like other people do. It’s a rare occurrence, and she doesn’t tell people often enough for it to happen, but it’s never nice when it does. Her childhood had been… rough to say the least. Rey thinks now that it has made her a better person; tougher, capable—but she always wonders what it would have been like to have a family where you belonged.

“I’m not close to my parents,” says Kylo, and she thinks she can detect shame in his voice. “We’ve been estranged for almost eleven years.”

“Why?” Rey assumes that if he’s open to telling her this, that he’ll be open to offering an explanation.

“I chose a path of life they were against.” Now he sounds clipped and withdrawn, as if her questioning isn’t appreciated. “What else, Kira? What else can you tell me about yourself?” Then, a little self-deprecatingly, he says: “Though I’m sure that’s not your real name.”

Smarting at his tone, Rey says, “No, it isn’t.” He hums, seeming satisfied that he knows the truth. “Alright then,” she says, because she doesn’t like being at a disadvantage. “I’m sure your name isn’t Kylo, either. How about this: a truth for a truth, what do you say?”

“Bargaining?” He sounds positively delighted. “I almost didn’t expect that of you.”

Rey grins. “I guess you don’t know me as well as you thought you did.”

“We should fix that.” There’s a predatory note in his voice, but it’s not sexual. Rey wonders if pencil-pusher isn’t quite in his job description; perhaps she owes him a bit more credit. “I’ll start,” he says grandly, “because I’m benevolent like that.” Rey barks a laugh, which he ignores. “I work and reside in Coruscant.”

Rey’s heart jumps. So they live in the same city. Granted, Coruscant is huge with a populace number that destroys any chances of a lucky encounter.

She considers her reply. “I’m single,” she says finally, and hates the way her heart skips at the thought of his response.

“I thought so,” he murmurs, not unkindly. “I can’t see many men being thrilled with your line of work, had you have been in a committed relationship.”

Rey fiddles with her earpiece. “Are you saying you would?”

He laughs. “Absolutely not. I’m not going to fool myself, Kira.” He says her fake name with a little bit of distaste, as if now he knows the lie is real and doesn’t wish to speak it. “I’d want you to myself. It would drive me mad knowing you speak to other men the way you speak to me.” He pauses. “My next truth? It does. Drive me mad. Even now.”

There’s a heavy silence between them and then, without thinking, she says, “I’m Rey.”

“Rey?” he repeats hungrily, like the name might be lost.

Her breath is shallow, panicked. “Just Rey.” This is ridiculous; it’s so unsafe, and it’s literally the first rule in the handbook and—

“Rey.”

He says her name like a benediction, soft and gentle and deep. Her whole body coils in a sensual anticipation of what he could do to her with this information. She is so utterly _fucked_ it isn’t even funny. Rey isn’t slow; she’s noticed he hasn’t said his own name, his real one, or whether or not he’s single. It hurts, she’ll admit, to think they’re on different pages of the same book.

“I want to see you, Rey.”

Rey tenses, hoping she’s heard him wrong.

“Rey?” he asks, because she hasn’t replied and it’s getting weird.

Alright, so her hearing is good. She doesn’t know what to do. It’s bad enough that she’s given him her name, but to see him? Does he mean on FaceTime? She has a strong gut feeling he does not mean FaceTime. It’s highly discouraged by the company to meet any of their clients for safety purposes but, it wouldn’t exactly be against the rules? She’s allowed to see who she likes outside of work.

“I’m here,” she says quickly. She doesn't want him to hang up. “What do you want to see?”

He huffs, not intolerant, but amused. “Your face. Your tits. Your pussy. All of you.”

She hesitates. “We could FaceTime—”

“No, Rey,” he says firmly. “You know what I mean. In real life.”

She should not be doing this; she shouldn’t even be _thinking_ about saying yes. But she wants to. God, she really wants to. Not even a little bit, but a whole lot. It isn’t even curiosity at this point. It's a desperate, burning sort of need. She hasn’t had sex in so long, and Kylo is… Kylo.

She wants it to be him, whoever he is.

But she’s scared.

“I can’t,” she whispers, hating herself in the moment. There’s a silence, thick and full that hangs in the balance as he processes her answer.

When he finally replies, his voice is clipped and professional. “I understand.” 

“Kylo—” 

“Have a good evening, Kira.”

He hangs up.

  
  


*

  
  
  


“Poe, I think I have a problem.”

He turns around in his swivel chair to look at her, his dark brows rising curiously. His headset is perched on top of his head and he tilts it to the side.

Poe is Rey’s cubicle neighbor. At first, Rey hadn’t understood why he worked at NITE FLIRT, he’d seemed so _normal_. Then she’d heard him in action, and the confident, outgoing persona had melted into a sexy, sensual voice. After that, it had been easy to see how he topped the leaderboard each week. (“I’m here for the cold hard cash, baby,” he’d told her over the espresso machine at two in the morning her first week on the job. “I’m a natural born talker; couldn’t shut me up if you tried.”)

Poe and Rey sometimes get dinner together if the calls are slow. Not that there’s a lot of food options at that time; occasionally Poe brings homemade meals. They’re actually really good; it’s a surprise he’s still single.

“What did you do?” he asks, positively gleeful at the prospect of some drama.

Rey frowns. “No need to sound happy about it.” She leans up against the cubicle wall. “You know my client who calls every day at six?”

“Yeap,” he drawls, popping the _p_. “Hard to miss when you’re getting your rocks off a metre away from me.”

Rey covers her face in mortification. “Oh my god.” Her voice is muffled through her fingers. “You’ve been listening?!”

“I haven’t been listening,” he explains defensively. “I can _hear_ you, there’s a difference.” He gives her a placating sort of smile as she blushes. “You wouldn’t be the first or the last to do it, Rey. Don’t worry.” He waves his hand. “Go on, what have you done with him?”

“His name is Kylo.”

He nods slowly. “Okay, so, what happened with Kylo?”

Rey hesitates, knowing that Poe is going to tell her she’s stupid and that it’s dangerous. She wants him to, to validate the decision that she’s made, but she also wants him to tell her that it’s totally fine, and she should _definitely_ go and bonk this complete stranger.

“He wants to meet me. You know, for real.”

Poe nods. “And you said yes.”

“Actually, I said no.” Rey thinks he couldn’t look any more surprised if he tried. “Which is what upset him,” she continues. “I think I may have lost my best client.”

Poe gets it. He sighs and leans back in his chair, looking perplexed. Kylo brings in a lot of money for Rey, they all know that. Rey is glad that she’s brought this up with Poe because he _understands_ , working here like this, and what it means.

“Well, what are you going to do?” he asks eventually.

Rey frowns. “I don’t know.”

He looks at her expectantly. “Let me rephrase that: what do you _want_ to do?”

Rey holds her breath for a moment. “I want to meet him.”

Poe grins, spreading his arms with his palms face upward. “Well, there’s your answer.”  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my forever and undying gratitude to @reveriemou for beta reading and for letting me bounce my nonsense off you. ily ❤ be warned, there's filth ahead.

The weekend passes in a blur of _Community_ reruns, pizza, and back scratches from Finn. Rey is holding out hope that come Monday her phone line will beep at six, but it doesn’t. Not on Tuesday, either. Wednesday, she gets a call at 6:06pm and she answers it far too eagerly. The gruff, accented voice on the other end, who was definitely not Kylo, is immediately wary of her enthusiasm and doesn’t stay on the line long. Rey doesn’t recognise his voice; maybe a first-time caller or he had a specific scenario in mind, but her initial eagerness clearly throws him and he does little more than offer “uh, thanks, anyway, bye” before hanging up.

Her classes are dismal and she doesn’t pay attention during her lectures, which Finn reprimands her for when she gets less than an acceptable grade on a paper that was due.

“Don’t sacrifice your future for dick,” he tells her firmly. “Especially for a dick you haven’t even seen.”

That stings a little.

By Thursday the following week, her hope starts to wane, and by Friday morning, it’s an insipid sort of throb residing in her lower stomach. Her calls have been terrible this week; her numbers are down and she can _hear_ her callers aren’t happy, but she doesn’t care. She wants to, but she doesn’t. Her paycheck is going to be abysmal come the end of the month if she doesn’t make a change; not to mention her boss will likely start breathing down her neck.

Six o’clock comes and goes on Friday, and Rey isn’t even surprised at this point when her phone doesn’t ring.

Poe pops his head around the cubicle wall questioningly and Rey shakes her head.

He offers an apologetic half-smile. “That sucks,” he offers placatingly, rolling his swivel chair into her cubicle. “I’m sorry, Rey.”

He bumps her shoulder with this. “You’re good at this, though. You’ll make the numbers up.” He knows it isn’t just about the numbers, because he squeezes her limp hand laying atop of her thigh.

“Thanks, Poe.” She tries to smile back, but it fails to reach her eyes.

His headset beeps and he frowns. “Got a caller, but how about we go down the Cantina at eight and I buy you dinner?”

Rey nods. “Sounds like a plan.” She shoos him out of her cubicle as he answers the call. The Cantina is a hole in the wall diner, but it serves good, quick food for a reasonable price. It’s the local haunt for most of the NITE FLIRT staff.

She texts Finn and mucks around on her phone for the next ten minutes until her line rings. Making a conscious effort to sound at least slightly enthused, she accepts the call and leans back in her chair, eyes fixed on the bland ceiling. Poetic, she thinks, flatly, given her current mood. She counts the little holes that litter the dingy white square panels, _one, two, three_ , _is that mold?_ She frowns, squinting up at the roof as the line connects her to a new caller.

“Hello, you can call me Kira,” she says into her headset.

“Rey.” A familiar voice.

She practically shoots out of her chair, her ass hovering just slightly above her seat, the palm of her hands pressed against the desk, and sits back down. “Kylo?”

He sounds tired. “I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.” Can she detect guilt, as well? “I respect your decision not to meet me; however, I still wish to talk to you, if you’ll let me.” It’s almost as if he’s rehearsed the lines, or is reading off a piece of paper, because he’s enunciating each word clearly and slowly.

“I want to meet you.” Her words come out in a rush, the opposite of his eloquence. She cringes. The line goes silent and she panics momentarily, scooting to the edge of her chair as if that might help the connection. “Kylo? Kylo, are you there?”

“I’m here.” He pauses again. “I’ll be honest, this isn’t how I was expecting the conversation to go. What made you change your mind?”

Rey fidgets with the hem of her shirt. She can’t blame him for sounding wary. “I panicked when you first asked me, but I do really want to see you. I’ve thought about you all week.” It isn’t an attempt to make him feel guilty, but his answering sigh indicates he feels that way regardless.

“I’ve thought about you too, Rey.” He hesitates, as if considering his choice of words. “I don’t care where you are; I’ll travel as far as I have to.”

She’s used to feeling aroused by his voice, but the elation she feels in her chest is unexpected. “I live in Coruscant,” she admits in a whisper-rush. “Where do you want to meet?” she asks, trying to calm her nerves.

He answers immediately. “I want you to feel safe. Somewhere public if you’d prefer. I can come to anywhere you decide; location isn’t an issue for me.”

“I’m just East of Central,” muses Rey. She considers it for a moment and decides on a place far away enough that it wouldn’t be a direct indicator as to where she actually lives. “Do you know Leafy Green?” It’s a vegan café downtown. It isn’t particularly well-known, but it’s bright and airy and friendly, and their tofu burger is to die for.

“You’re a vegan?” is all Kylo says, amusement clear in his tone. He seems to know the place, so he must live in or around the area, she thinks.

“No.” Rey laughs. “I just love the café; there’s so much green that if I try hard enough, I can forget I live in the city.”

“I’d take you anywhere you wanted to go.” Kylo isn’t laughing anymore. He’s serious, she knows. “Tomorrow,” he says brusquely, as if the admittance is too much for him. “Six o’clock at the… Leafy Green.” He says the word like it’s a new taste in his mouth.

Her heart is beating like a hummingbird trying to escape a locked cage, from both his admission and their agreement to meet. After writing off the idea that Kylo would ever call her again, she can’t help the elation that is coursing through her. She wonders, briefly, if it’s the anonymity that appeals to her about him; she doesn’t date a lot in real life, and worries if upon meeting, the unexplainable attraction she feels to him will dissipate. What if he picks his nose? What if he doesn’t shower? What if he was riddled with boils and the like? Darker, insidious thoughts weasel their way into her mind; what if he wants to hurt her?

_I’d take you anywhere you wanted to go._

She rewinds that line over and over in her head, and the sincerity wins out.

Rey grins. “Six o’clock.”

  
  


*

  
  


In retrospect, meeting at night probably isn’t the best idea, but Rey has school and NITE FLIRT to juggle, which means she often sleeps during the day on the weekend. Who knows what Kylo gets up to outside of his Monday to Friday schedule. Until recently, they’ve never talked about anything other than, well, sex.

Rey puts on a sexy white dress that is usually reserved for special occasions (and surely this one is) and her best, gray-colored coat. She wears flats, because although Kylo has told her he’s tall, he’s never specified _how tall_ , and she’s five-seven; some men can get funny about height. Something tells her Kylo wouldn’t care, but she’d rather be on the safe side.

She takes the bus downtown and walks ten minutes to the café. Leafy Green is surrounded by towering buildings; its green-painted paneling makes it stand out from the grayscale of the city’s usual palette. The front window sports the cafe’s name in frosted, arched curlicues, making it hard to see inside. Rey contemplates waiting at the front entrance, but it’s getting cooler, so she heads in. The café is designed around a central pillar, made to look like a tree with branches growing across the ceiling. Its fake leaves blow in the “wind” when the air-con is running. The carpet is designed to look like grass, the chair tops are mossy, and the waiters are always friendly.

Rey picks out a table near the back. Quiet, but not out of eyesight of other patrons. She did tell Finn where she was going, under the pretense of a Tinder date. He would have tried to stop her or, at the very least, tried to talk her out of it if he knew she was meeting Kylo, a stranger from a sex line. He’d fixed her with a weird look, clearly curious about her sudden, secretive behaviour. They can, and do, normally tell each other everything. She’d told him if he doesn’t hear from her by ten that evening, he should call the police. He didn’t look the slightest amused when she mentioned that; though, she knew it would never come to that. She just _knew_ Kylo was safe.

She’s a little early, it’s only quarter to six, so she orders a coffee and makes herself comfortable. Kylo should be anything if not punctual, given the consistency of his calls to her, so she isn’t particularly perturbed at having to wait. It’s what she does already at work, waiting for him to call her. It’s warmer inside than it is out, so Rey stands and shrugs off her coat, turning to hang it over the back of her chair.

“Rey?”

She didn’t hear the door or the bell above it jingle, but despite being surprised, she feels the warm flutter of familiarity at the greeting. Letting go of her coat, she turns around.

She’s imagined Kylo many times; not just during their phone calls. To the obvious times like at night when she’s getting herself off, but to the more innocuous things like grocery shopping, doing her laundry, all conjuring up images of what he’d look like and how he might dress. Now, looking at the man standing before her, she feels her throat go dry. He’s _nothing_ like she had imagined, and she has a pretty good imagination.

“Kylo?” she asks unnecessarily, and realises that she has to tilt her head back a bit to look him in the eyes. He’s clearing six foot. He smiles at his name, a crooked, easy sort of thing that makes his eyes crinkle in the corners. Rey knows she’s staring, but she can’t help it. She realises he’s staring at her too when she notices his gaze is tracking over her mouth.

He chuckles, and the sound is soft and low. He looks out of place here, because even though he’s dressed in what Rey assumes is _his_ casual clothes, it still looks too nice for a downtown café. Fitted jeans, a black tee shirt and a blazer. She glances down at his feet (they’re so _large_ ) and notes he’s wearing clean, leather boots. Her brow quirks; brave choice for a vegan establishment. 

“Am I to standard?” he queries, not unkindly, and Rey flushes and looks anywhere but at his face.

“Of course,” she replies quickly, trying to tamper down how high her voice has climbed. Does she hug him? Do they just sit? She’s only confident on the phone and—

Kylo makes the choice for her, leaning in slow enough that she can pull away if need be. He dips his head and his lips graze her cheek, lifting his right hand to give her arm a gentle squeeze. His palm is hot on her bare skin and she’s so tempted to move her head and meet his lips with her own, but she doesn’t; she manages to be a respectable human being and not throw herself at him.

It takes a _lot_ of restraint.

“Hi,” he says softly, pulling back.

Rey blinks and breathes, “Hi.”

He gestures for her to sit and he follows her, glancing curiously around the café before fixing his eyes on her again. “You’re nervous.”

Rey laughs, full-bodied and a bit throaty. “I thought I wasn’t, but I really am.” He smiles with fondness.

Suddenly, just like that, it becomes easier. “Aren’t you even the slightest bit nervous?” She asks him, leaning forward like it’s a conspiracy.

She takes in his long face, his dark hair. “What if I was hideous?”

Then she realises that she’s tooting her own horn and tries to backtrack. “Not that I think I’m beautiful, but you know, what if—”

“You _are_ beautiful.”

The impact of those words immediately brings a warmth to her cheeks and sends her mind reeling. Rey knows immediately that he’s being honest; the burn of his hazel eyes and the timbre of his voice leave little room for argument. She tries to hide an embarrassed laugh and he smiles that half-grin again, and fleetingly, Rey thinks she’s seen him before. Granted, they do live in the same city, but she can’t place him.

“You’re not too hard on the eyes yourself.” She flashes him a grin, which he returns. It’s toothy and endearing. “I’ve never done this before,” she remarks, encompassing the space around them with a sweep of her arm.

“Had coffee?” he queries curiously, and for a moment, she thinks he’s serious, and then she catches the crinkle in the corner of his eyes and the thrum of his fingers atop the table.

“Very funny,” she shoots back. “Do you often frequent public dining establishments with sex workers?”

“Only when they’re as enigmatic as yourself,” he quips, unfazed.

“Oh?” she lifts her chin, doing her best to hide her amusement at their verbal volleying. “So how many would that be?”

“Just the one,” he remarks, eyes burning into her own. “They’re a rare breed, it would seem.”

Although she hadn’t assumed he frequently dined with those in her profession, or any line of it, it’s nice to hear the confirmation. He seems to pick up on her approval, and Rey wonders if it’s because they’ve talked so often that their nuances are more pronounced. Would he be able to read her as well if they had never spoken? She ponders it over as a waiter appears to take their order. Kylo, clearly out of his depth, allows her to order for them.

When the waiter walks away with an order of a cauliflower pizza and hazelnut cashew cheesecake, Rey is quick to defend her food choices. “It’s good,” she insists, incited by his raised brows and amused smile. “Whoever said vegan cheese was bad is _lying.”_

He raises his palms in mock surrender. “I’ve trusted you this far, haven’t I?”

“I’ve trusted _you_ , you mean,” she says pointedly.

He considers this for a moment, and Rey wonders if she’s made a wrong move, but then he reaches into the pocket of his blazer and pulls out his wallet. He fishes out his ID and flips it to face her. He looks younger in the picture; his ears are sticking out beneath his mop of hair. She's too busy looking at his picture, she doesn't notice his thumb blocking out his name.

“No need to comment on my ears,” he says, as if he can read her thoughts.

Rey grins, fishing her own ID out of her purse. “They’re endearing.”

She flips the card around to face him, and his eyes briefly scan the plastic.

“Rey,” he says, looking directly at her in all seriousness and earnesty, his voice deeper now. “We can eat the food and talk idly if you want, but at any moment all you need to do is say the word, and we’ll go back to my apartment.”

He tilts his head. “I’ll fuck you in all the ways I’ve promised to, and then some.”

He leans back in his chair, his legs slightly spread apart, as if he hasn’t just offered her the most tempting scenario her brain could come up with. The power and confidence that radiates from him is intense. “Your choice.”

Rey stands, knees knocking the center table leg and making her coffee slosh over the side of her cup.

She jerks her head to the door. “Let’s go.”

His eyes crinkle in amusement at her rush. He briskly cancels the food with the waiter. He pays for their drinks _and_ the cancelled food, and leaves a generous tip—“For the inconvenience,” he says with a wink. Rey doesn't think she can be any more attracted to him, but she is.

  
  


*

  
  


Kylo hails a cab and opens the door for her. He’s nothing if not a gentleman, but when he places his hand on her thigh, where her dress has ridden up, she almost jumps at the touch. His hands are huge and the skin is _hot_ ; it feels like a brand—his brand—being seared into her. The pads of his fingers press occasionally into the meat of her leg, his thumb rubbing soft circles as if to remind her that he’s there.

Like she could _forget_.

They hardly speak in the cab, which Rey is grateful for because she doesn’t think she can remember how to form sentences. She knows she’s wet, and the slightest shift of her thighs rubbing together makes Kylo eye her up sharply. She realises they’re heading uptown about fifteen minutes into the drive.

“It won’t be long,” he leans across and murmurs into her ear, his nose grazing gently across her cheekbone before he pulls away. It’s so erotic; Rey’s cunt clenches unbiddingly.

The drive feels longer than the twenty-something minutes it takes to arrive; the cab stopping in a wealthy area uptown.

It’s also another, long ride up to his apartment on the fifteenth floor. She watches the floor indicator illuminate on the elevator panel. It’s a nice building, she’s noticed, the foyer and the lift outfitted in chromes and mirrors. Rey had half-assumed they’d be all over each other by this point, but all Kylo does is press one large hand to her lower back to guide her out the elevator and down the hallway.

“Very trusting of you,” Rey acknowledges when they reach his door and he lets her in.

He shrugs. “I have nothing to hide from you.”

The apartment is large and airy, with more windows than walls, showcasing a spectacular view of Coruscant's affluent uptown region and the river that courses through it. His décor is sparse, dark woods with splashes of red and charcoal grey here and there, but there’s a number of art works lining the walls.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for an art collector,” comments Rey as he takes her coat from her. She runs her fingers along the back of the lounge suite as she takes in her surroundings.

“I’m not,” he admits, following her. “My mother is. She sends me something each year.”

Rey shoots him a curious glance over her shoulder. “I thought you said you didn’t speak to your parents.”

His answering smile is sharp. “How astute of you. I don’t, but that hardly stops her from sending me these.” He gestures to the art on the walls.

Rey hums. “And you put them up, as opposed to selling them or keeping them in storage?”

Kylo chuckles quietly. “Sentiment.” He says the word more to himself than her. Then he swoops in, catching her from behind the waist with one of his long arms and pressing himself up against her back. “Come now, Rey; surely there are other things you wish to _talk_ about?”

_It’s happening_ , Rey thinks wildly, and her mouth is dry and she can’t remember if she wore the really sexy underwear or the sort-of sexy underwear, and she is a _phone sex operator_ for crying out loud and she can’t string together a sentence—

He turns her, slowly, in the cage of his arms. She thinks that she could get used to this, and tries to banish the thought as quickly as it comes. Kylo, with the broad expanse of his chest and the strong grip of his arms, is not a forever thing.

As far as she knows, he’s a _right now_ thing and a _one-time_ thing rolled into one; he’ll likely never speak to her again once they have sex.

But she really, _really_ wants to have sex with him.

There are a number of reasons; though at this current point in time, it boils down to attraction. It’s been some time she slept with someone, and the build up of anticipation and promise that started back in the café is close to overflowing.

Kylo's fingers drum slowly on her back, moving to brush over the curve of her hip and trace the shape of her spine. His fingers find their way beneath her hair and to the zip of her dress.

"I've been thinking," he muses softly.

Rey catches her bottom lip between her teeth and closes her eyes. Words that are simplistic in nature but that set off a myriad of sensations within her. She huffs, a small soft sound in her throat, as his fingers find the zipper and pull it slowly down her back.

"I've been thinking about you for months. I’ve imagined you, imagined this. I’ve thought about what you’ll look like stretched out underneath me.”

Rey sucks in air, her hands shaking, and she clutches at the edge of the couch as Kylo moves behind her. She’s still wearing her dress, but she’s acutely aware of the expanse of her back that is now open to him from his earlier work with the zipper. He’s patient and gentle with her, but there’s a possessiveness to his touch as he lays his hands on her hips and edges her forward, pinning her between his body and the couch. He lowers his head, nosing along the nape of her neck, and she can feel the heat of his breath on her skin.

“Kylo—”

“Think about you all the time,” he speaks over her breathlessness. “All the _goddamn_ time.”

He brings his hands up, gliding over her stomach and up over her ribs. “You have the most beautiful breasts, Rey.” His voice is low, almost crooning.

Rey flushes, because she’s self-conscious about the size of her breasts. She opens her mouth to say something self-deprecating, but then his hands are on her, cupping them.

“Perfect,” he assures her. “They fit so perfectly in my hands.” His overly large hands practically dwarf her tits, but judging from the way he’s grinding his groin into her back, he really does love them. Her nipples are stiff and aching as they rub against the material of her dress.

“No bra,” he says, amusement in his tone.

She shakes her head and clears her throat. “I don’t need a bra.” She flushes again when he chuckles. “As if you haven’t noticed,” she finishes tartly.

Kylo’s hands slide up her arms and his fingers curl around the shoulders of her dress. “As if I haven’t noticed,” he mimics teasingly, pulling her dress down her arms. “Smart little mouth you’ve got, haven’t you?”

Confidence bolstered, even as her dress pools on the floor at her feet, Rey smiles. “You should know; you’ve been getting off to it for half a year.”

He makes a quiet noise, almost a purr of approval, and squeezes her hips. “That’s true.” His fingers flex at her sides. “But so have you.”

At her sound of protest, he laughs and pushes her further over the couch. “Did you think I wouldn’t be able to tell if you were faking it? Rey…” He murmurs condescendingly. “I knew every time you were touching your pussy.” His lips brush against her ear again when he whispers, “I _know_ you.”

Rey tips her head back to lean against his shoulder. Her whole body is on fire. Sex hasn’t felt like this with anyone and they’re not even _having_ sex yet, she thinks wildly; this is just the beginning and—

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” His fingers find the waistband of her panties. They’re a simple, seamless black fit with a high arch on the hip. One finger slips under the fabric and strokes at her skin there. “What my cock will feel like?”

Rey exhales heavily to try and calm the rush of her blood and the ache between her legs. “About as much as you think of my cunt,” she shoots back, finally finding her voice again. She pushes back against him and delights in his exhale as she rubs her arse on him.

She’s confused and disappointed when he pulls away from her. “What—”

“Take your panties off.” Rey stills at the firm demand in his voice. “Do it,” he snaps when she doesn’t move.

Before she can even realise she’s moving, her hands are sliding off the couch to hook into the sides of her panties. She’s never done anything like this before, but she _wants_ to with him. He makes her want _more._ She bends her knees slightly as she pulls them down her legs. She steps out of them and feeling unsure, she holds them loosely in her right hand.

“Good girl,” Kylo praises. Rey wants to hate it, some part of her brain telling her she doesn’t _need_ his praise, but she can’t; she absolutely adores the praise. “Wait a moment.” She daren’t turn around, because as much as Kylo seems to be into praising her, she’s sure the opposite of that is punishment. While that’s something she may like to explore with him, it’s not something she’s interested in right now. She wants him; in and around her as soon as possible.

Rey can’t breathe. Her heart is pounding so hard that it’s threatening to drown out all other sounds. Her nipples are rock hard and she’s practically dripping wet at this point. Reminding herself to inhale, exhale, she hears the tell-tale sound of a zipper and his pants being dropped to the floor. Kylo is back within the moment, spreading one hand across her stomach to pull her back against him. He grinds against her slowly, and Rey can’t help the small sound that escapes when the silky hot skin of his cock rubs up against her arse.

She hasn’t even _seen_ his cock yet, and somehow that makes it even more exciting.

His voice is a ragged and broken thing when he says, “I can smell your cunt.” He nuzzles into the skin where her shoulder meets her neck. “Spread your legs,” he says to her, and she widens her stance automatically.

“So good,” he murmurs. “Obedient.” His tongue curls around the word, and she can hear the smile in his voice.

Rey has never been like this with anyone; subservience isn’t in her nature. Briefly, she wonders if that’s why; that she’s had to fight for everything she’s ever wanted, to take control of her narrative in life, but with him, with Kylo, it’s freeing to just _let go_. Not to mention, he fits so well into the dominant role.

Kylo slips his hand between her thighs and caresses the soft skin there. “I’m going to fuck you, Rey,” he tells her, tightening the arm around her waist to keep her up as she trembles. “I’m going to open you up the way we’ve talked about; put my fingers inside you until you’re dripping all over my hand.” He kisses her shoulder blade. “Do you want that?”

More than anything, she thinks.

“Yes,” she says through clenched teeth. “God, yes, please.”

There’s no way she’s going to whine, but she’s close to it as he starts to make good on his words. His large hand cups the whole of her cunt, pushing his middle finger between her labia to find her clit. Her skin parts, wet and sticky for him, and Rey rocks helplessly against his hand, desperate for friction where his finger is. She’s gripping his forearm around her waist with an almost inhuman grasp, and if he minds, he doesn’t say anything. She tips her head again, her lips searching to brush her mouth against the underside of his jaw. His skin, clean-shaven, is warm beneath her lips.

She hasn’t kissed him yet, and she _wants_ to. “Please, Kylo, I need—”

It isn’t the smoothest movement, which is a contrast to how he’s maneuvered them this whole evening, when he suddenly turns her to face him. She can see why almost immediately; his pupils are blown and his breathing is ragged, and he’s looking at her like she’s the ocean and he hasn’t seen water in a decade. His eyes flicker to her lips and Rey can’t wait anymore; she’s wanted this for so long. She surges up to him, her hands perched on his shoulders, and their lips meet in a hot, hard kiss. His palms are suddenly on her neck, his fingers touching her face, and she can feel her own wetness on them as his fingers gently press into her cheeks and he kisses her harder.

“Ben,” he says, pulling back momentarily. Rey stares at him, confused. He swallows. “My real name is Ben.”

It takes her a moment to compute, and then she tries it. “Ben.” She says it slowly and gently, trying it like a new flavor. She looks at his face and thinks, _Ben suits you better_.

“Say it again,” he demands, but there’s less aggression and something close to a plea in his voice. “My name, say it again.”

“Ben,” whispers Rey, and this time when they kiss, it’s slow and heated and everything she’s ever dreamed of with him. “Ben,” she murmurs against his lips. “Please fuck me.”

As she says it, she leans back against the couch and spreads her legs, her bottom perched on the back cushions. He leans into her, shoving his hand with little finesse beneath her legs to drive his fingers into her cunt. He doesn’t bother with one; he goes straight for two, as wet as she is, but the thickness of his digits still makes for a stretch that burns. Rey whimpers and writhes as she bears down, wanting more at the same time. She’s so wet that the burn eases in an instant, and then she’s making soft, keening sounds as he pumps his fingers in her and circles her clit with his thumb.

“I want to fuck you in a bed,” he tells her, nipping at her ear lobe as he fucks her with his hand. “You deserve that, Rey.”

“God _yes_ ,” she groans, riding his hand. “Please—”

When he removes his hand, she pouts, but then he picks her up like she’s _nothing_ , walking her towards his bedroom, and Rey can do nothing but kiss his face and hold on tight.

  
  


*

  
  


Rey blinks, bleary and pliant, as she’s nudged onto her side. It’s early; they didn’t close the blinds last night and the first hints of sun are only just creeping in through the windows. Ben doesn’t say anything, and Rey doesn’t need him to; there’s an implicit sort of connection that exists between them now. He wraps himself around her, his warm chest pressed up against her back as he slides a thigh between her legs and rocks softly. She’s still wet from last night; the evidence of their trysts a sticky reminder between her thighs.

She smiles softly as his thick arm winds around her torso, fingers grasping for a breast to cup. He pinches the sensitive point of her nipple and her breath comes faster. She squirms, wanting more, and his soft chuckle in her ear only incites her further.

“I’d keep you here,” he tells her, slotting his cock between her thighs to slide through wetness; old and new. “In my bed, like this, every day for the rest of our lives, if I could.” Rey shifts her hips to help him find his way, the head of his cock catching on the hole of her cunt. She bites her lip in anticipation as he slides in, slick and unforgiving.

She’d stay this way too, if she could.

He lifts her leg to lever over his own and thrusts deeper, and just like that, they’re panting and writhing together all over again. Rey can’t remember how many times she’s come; on his cock or his fingers or his tongue, the whole night blurs into one delicious, filthy mess.

“What are you thinking about?” He grinds his hips to bring her out of her reverie. His lips touch her shoulder.

“You.” Rey admits carelessly, too caught up on the thick slide of his cock inside of her. She reaches back to put her hand on his hip; stilling him. “I want to see your face,” she tells him over her shoulder, watching the way he raises a brow.

He acquiesces readily enough, withdrawing from her so she can lay on her back. She’s noticed he likes it like this, caging her in, taking control; she’d ridden him once last night and he’d had no complaints—his hands on her breasts as he pistoned his hips up into her—but she knows that he prefers this. She spreads her thighs and grasps him by the back of the neck to bring him down to her, and he pushes back into her cunt as he kisses her. He’s so _warm_ above her, and Rey revels in the moment of just laying there, stretched open on his thick cock as the sun slowly rises.

“Going to come,” he tells her after a while, when there’s sweat beading and their hips are starting to stutter. He’s grinding more than thrusting now, the hard bone of his pelvis pressing against her clit deliciously.

Rey pants, hips undulating as she finds his eyes with her own. “Come inside me.” She presses an open-mouthed kiss to his cheek. “Do it, Ben. Come inside me again.” He groans, his weight starting to become heavy atop of her. “I’m close,” she chokes out on a particularly deep grind of his hips.

He does it again, and again, until she’s grasping wordlessly at his shoulders and tightening her legs around his hips.

He comes first, his eyes never leaving her face, as he shakes and empties himself inside her. It’s that which sets off her own orgasm, the deep grind sparking against her clit and making her breathless. She rolls her hips lazily against him to draw it out, pushing his hair off of his damp forehead affectionately.

“Fuck,” he says from atop her, crooked grin back on his face. “You’re something else, Rey.” She smiles back, too sated and lazy to find words.

They lay in their mess for a moment, exchanging lazy kisses, and then Ben pulls himself from her and rolls over. “Coffee?” he questions, glancing at her. “Food?”

Rey feigns mock surprise. “You’re spoiling me. Coffee, please.” She moves to get up, but he waves her away.

“No, stay in bed.” He stands up, stretching slowly, and Rey admires the wide plane of his shoulders and the curve of his ass. “Milk and sugar?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Yes to milk, one sugar, thank you.” She watches him leave fondly.

Snuggling back into the bedsheets, Rey cringes when she feels a wet spot. One to add to the many; his sheets will desperately be in need of a clean today. She takes the time to lean over and fish her phone out of her purse. She’d managed to text Finn and give him the okay last night, somewhere between her third orgasm and her fourth. Ben had eaten her out with long swipes of his tongue and two fingers in her pussy while she’d tried to text. Upon this morning’s review, she can see her typos very clearly. Finn’s response of two laughing emojis and an eggplant clearly convey he knew what was going on. She doesn’t have any missed calls or any emails, so she puts her phone back and heads to the bathroom.

It’s a quick clean-up job, hardly more than a refresh because the likelihood of sex again is high, and when Rey returns to the bedroom, Ben is still missing, but a phone is vibrating.

His iPhone is on the table, next to his side of the bed, along with his wallet and a sleek, digital chrome clock. Rey walks past it, telling herself she doesn’t need to look, but is ultimately unable to help herself.

She glances at it and wishes she hadn’t.

The photo ID is of Ben, and he’s sitting with a slim, dark-haired woman. She’s striking in a mean-looking way. They’re smiling and they have drinks in their hands. _Bazine_ , reads the name above the picture.

Rey pauses, her hands clenched at her sides. She could be anyone, it doesn’t matter, Rey has no proprietary claim on him and—

_Maz’s._

A sick, serpentine coil starts low in her stomach as Rey realises she has seen Ben before and the girl that’s currently calling him. They’d been in a private booth at Maz’s a few weeks ago, which now that Rey knows where he lives, isn’t far from him or the business district of Coruscant. He’d been the man she liked, the one with the aristocratic nose and—

Rey glances back at the phone, but it’s stopped ringing and displays the missed call bar only. Then a text comes through.

_Are we still on for tonight? x_

She feels her eyes start to burn. Bazine had been with him; he’d had his hand on her thigh.

Ben walks into the bedroom. “We can order breakfast—” Rey stumbles back away from him on instinct, and immediately his brows furrow and he looks around the room. “Rey?” he asks, stepping closer. “What is it?”

“Y-you were at the bar,” she says, realizing what has just happened.

“What bar?”

“Maz’s, downtown, near the business district.”

He looks confused, and then seems to realise. “That was you. The girl across the dancefloor.”

“And you’re the guy with the girlfriend.” Rey wants to vomit. She just helped someone cheat. Ben still looks confused, so Rey points to his phone. “You missed a call from her.” She can’t keep the bitterness from her voice.

She starts gathering her stuff. Rey can’t believe this is happening. Her day job might not be the highest moral ground, but this is different. The phone is not real. She’s just a voice. But now? She’s seen Ben, she’s fucked him on multiple furnishings throughout his house that just a day ago were nothing but a mere part of her imagination.

Now it’s real.

Ben is real and he has a very real girlfriend.

He looks torn, glancing at his phone and then Rey. “Rey,” he says after a minute, but she isn’t going to listen to any excuses he has.

Shaking her head, she pushes past him and finds her dress on the living room floor from the night before. She throws it on and zips it up halfway as best she can before shrugging her coat on over the top. Ben is following her, placing the coffee mugs down on the nearest surface.

“Rey, wait,” he says desperately. “Will you—”

“No,” she snaps, whirling on him. She doesn’t want to be this angry, but it _hurts_.

Her stomach is twisting into knots and she’s thinking of all the things he said to her last night and this morning—all lies, and she feels like a horrible person. Her mind is whirling, frantically scrabbling at pieces of a puzzle that are starting to fit.

He never stated whether he was single in the first place, not once in all the time they’ve talked, not even when she admitted to being single herself only recently. Rey can’t help but feel the disgust welling at her own self for assuming he was; that she was an unintentional willing participant in helping him cheat by not pushing the question further.

She shouldn’t have been so trusting; she shouldn’t have been so _stupid_. She thought she could trust him, she _thought_ —

“This isn’t the phone, Ben,” she tells him angrily, heading for the front door. “You and I? This was real.” She wrenches it open, blinking desperately to stop from crying. When she looks back, Ben is standing dejectedly in the hall, his mouth pulled in a tight line. She wants to _punch_ him.

“And that girl?” Rey jerks her chin in the direction of his bedroom and his phone. “ _She’s_ real.”

He flinches, unable to meet her eyes. Rey shakes her head and slams the door behind her, almost running for the lift, hating herself as it dings and she steps inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more to go! in the mean time, you can find me on twitter: @disarmed_ happy new year, to all of you, may 2021 be better and brighter for all of us! x

**Author's Note:**

> hoping to stay consistent with the upcoming installments! you can find me screaming over star wars on twt @disarmed_


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